


rhack songfic thingy

by oats_and_hay



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Sex, Implied/Referenced Violence, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Pre-Canon, a bit of, a lot of stuff is implied, just an excuse to write these two losers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:21:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27192343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oats_and_hay/pseuds/oats_and_hay
Summary: Collection of fics I wrote last night in an attempt to revive old writing challenges.Each ficlet is written in the time span of the song it's based on (ex. Wolves - I would have 2:56 to write something). I put my Rhack playlist on shuffle and these are the results. All are definitely Rhack-centric, but some are more so than others.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands)
Kudos: 2





	rhack songfic thingy

  


Rag ‘n Bone Man - Wolves

The wastelands of Pandora are nigh invincible. Rhys raises a shimmering chrome hand, shielding himself from the glare. Jack crouches behind him, looking up to the dotted horizon, where a line of ragged bodies stalk closer. He steadies the pistol; it’s fight or flight now. Masked psychos creep forward, unusually slow. The sun blazes above them. Jack shoots him a quick affirmative. Rhys will get out of this planet. Alive, if he has anything to say about it.

  


Mr Fear - SIAMES

Jack knows Rhys is scared. Of him, he reminds. Not of the power, or the things they could do together. It’s him. Rhys is afraid of him. He sees it in the quiet quake of his shoulders as they part. In the morning, when they’re bare only to themselves and the void of space. There’s a simmering anger when he notices Rhys’s eyes water as he stares into Jack, into his soul, into the husk of what he used to be. The dark doesn’t hide it. The shy arms don’t either. When they kiss, it’s electric. Jack will always crave fear.

  


Lady Gaga - Bad Romance

Blood stains his shirt. It’s on the once-white collar where Jack had pressed hungry kisses an hour earlier. His hips ache in a dull reminder of what happened after. Rhys had bitten him on the hand for that. He still yearns for more. More pain. More blood. Anything to keep him aware that this is happening, happening to him of all people. He wants to be branded, to let everyone who walks through those blasted doors know who he belongs to. Most importantly, who he stands beside. The blood will always stain when it’s them.

  


Queen - Killer Queen

The first year as his PA, Rhys is terrified. Then he comes to a slow realisation; Handsome Jack is the king here, and monarchs need to govern. So he’ll be the obedient pawn. He’s serving him, and he’ll do it in any way. Every way possible, if he can. Jack is a fickle man, and after years of experience, Rhys knows how to deal with his manic boss; give him everything.

  


Panic! At The Disco - LA Devotee

It’s quick and fast. The air bellows around the vehicle, sending loud wails from the engine. Behind the darkened divider, two bodies shuffle in passionate motion. Rhys feels two battle-strengthened fists curl in his hair, pushing him into the limousine’s side. He doesn’t know when they’d started this strange form of foreplay, but he can’t deny the sultry adrenaline pumping through his veins. It’s addictive.

  


Davy Knowles - Ain’t No Grave

As the saying goes: “Heroes never die.” Jack doesn’t die. He awakens in a non-corporeal form, sure, but he’s not dead. He sees the shitstorm Hyperion’s become and he knows his purpose in this godforsaken universe is yet to be fulfilled. And all that ghostly bullcrap. The kid he's attached to is a sight, an ambitious little thing, and as suddenly as he was reactivated, Jack feels a plan forming in his head.

  


P!ATD - Emperor’s New Clothes

The plan goes well. He’s back at the top, right where he belongs. Now he sees through different eyes. Blue and brown instead of green and blue. His hair is longer, a deeper shade of burgundy, but the crown on his head is the same. Inside, a voice screams at him, cursing his name. It’s drowned out. Hyperion bows its yellow head at its king for the first time in years. The feeling is glorious.

  


The River - Blues Saraceno

The man before him is no longer John. Rhys might recognise his sharp jaw, pronounced features and piercing eyes, but he knows in his soul this isn’t the man he remembers. The man he loves. His hands are rougher, calloused by eviler deeds than John would have ever entertained. Rhys, for the first time in a long time, sees a stranger in his arms. A stranger who used to be familiar to him.

  


The Overtones - Gambling Man

Damn him, but Rhys loves it. The wealth, the galas, the fancy nights out on Eden-6. He feels luxury in its most glamorous form as he's wrapped in gold and lace. Champagne spills onto the marble floor beneath their waltzing feet. In the glistening evening light, warm fingers trail from the lapels of his suit to his waist. It burns like magma on a sinner’s tongue. Jack’s breath lingers on his skin. Expensive. The treasured fruit.

  


Gang Of Youths - Achilles Come Down

There are flashes of dark pig-tails on a little girl, a slender woman’s hand tugging at his own, the emptiness when he remembers they’re all gone. When you’re at the top, nothing feels close. His throne is a detached one, overlooking the kingdom but without communication. With a lift of a finger, the court falls to their knees and beg for their lives. The thrill of it fades. Soon, he’s left only with an aching need for a comforting side, strong enough to stand with him. Not foolish enough to succumb to betrayal. Not like the others. He wants and wants and wants. It’s close to a steady death.

  


Joji - Sanctuary

They lie together in a bed of their own making. Rhys’s pale skin, marred not by scars or wounds but by swirling ink, shines in the dim glow. He’ll be awake soon. Jack watches as drool escapes onto the soft sheets, feeling the rise and fall of Rhys’s chest. He brushes a stray hair back into place. Almost tenderly. The man in his hold sputters an exhale, not in the least bit gracious. There is a fullness to him that makes Jack want to-- what? Own him? Use Rhys like everyone else before him? Jack surprises himself when he can’t find an answer.

**Author's Note:**

> They're pretty short. Sorry about that. If you're an author, feel free to take any one of these as prompts and flesh 'em out even more. Thanks for reading!


End file.
